


when you're too in love to let it go

by icecreamandlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, depressed!harry, literally so much sadness i'm sorry, little bit of pining, lots of long sentences, this is really sad okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamandlarry/pseuds/icecreamandlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis didn’t say anything as he slid through the door. He didn’t say anything as he lifted up the corner of Harry’s duvet and slid underneath it and into the warmth that had collected there. He didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s thin torso, didn’t say anything about how boney he’s gotten. Louis didn’t say anything because with Harry and Louis and Louis and Harry, words didn’t matter; feelings did. And maybe Harry wasn’t feeling anything right now, and maybe he never would, but Louis was feeling enough for the both of them. And that was okay.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you're too in love to let it go

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this was written pretty spur of the moment.
> 
> Don't listen to Don't Let Me Go, it will be a bad idea.
> 
> TW: depression, super super brief thoughts of self harm and suicide, I think that's it.
> 
> Enjoy!! (hopefully)
> 
> Title taken from the song [Fix You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V3Mo61fJM) by Coldplay.
> 
> -N

**"Lights will guide you home,**  
 **and ignite your bones,**  
 **and I will try to fix you."**

-Coldplay,  _Fix You_

 

* * *

 

Harry’s not happy.

He’s not sad; that’s not it at all. He’s just. He’s indifferent; dark, cold and indifferent.

~*~

“It’s been two months, Haz,” Louis reminds him as if he didn’t know exactly how long it’s been since that day. “Maybe you should see someone.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked because he didn’t know what Louis meant; he never knew what Louis meant. Louis says things too quickly and everything for him is fast-paced and exciting and _fun_ and Harry wishes that he could remember how to have fun. It’s been two months. How has it only been two months? It feels like it’s been three lifetimes since Nick left.

“My mum was thinking that you should see a therapist or something.” Louis shrugged like Harry wasn’t falling apart inside. He guesses that Louis doesn’t really know does he? “She said that there’s a woman that she used to work with at the hospital, maybe you could give her a call? Would you want to do that?”

No, of course Harry doesn’t want to do that; he doesn’t want to talk to someone about his feelings. He wants to wallow in his own indifference until Christmas break comes so that his mum or his sister or his stepdad can put him back together. They always do.

He accepts the card that Louis hands him anyway and smiles tightly.

He’s not going to call.

~*~

Harry’s going to fail.

That’s his first thought when he registers the _72_ that’s written across the paper in front of him.

The grade isn’t even that bad, but two months ago he was making _100_ ’s on everything in his writing class. Two months ago he was happy and he had a clear set future, one where everything was planned out and he was _happy_.

He’s not happy anymore.

~*~

Harry remembers the first time he saw Nick.

The club was dark and he was seventeen and he shouldn’t have even been there. He shouldn’t have been there but he was and he let Nick kiss his neck and he let Nick take his virginity that same night even though he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it and neither of them were even really that drunk. He let Nick take him home and he let Nick tell him that he was _beautiful_ and _perfect_. He wasn’t. He isn’t and he wasn’t and Harry doesn’t think that he’ll ever be. Because who could be perfect? Who wants that kind of weight upon their shoulders? No one wants perfection, no one wants to be looked at and idolized in that way because if you’re perfect than what are you?

You’re nothing else.

He doesn’t want to be perfect.

He just wants to _be_.

~*~

Harry wasn’t sad when Nick broke up with him.

He was empty. He was _indifferent_.

“I just can’t do it anymore, Harry.” He’d said, not even bothering to come into the flat before starting his obviously prepared speech. “We want different things and you’re so young and you have so much ahead of you.” It was lies, all lies. Harry _loved_ him. He didn’t need anything else. “We’re just at different places in our lives and- you’re still at uni, for christ’s sake.”

“I’m finished in a year,” Harry had put in quickly, not wanting this to be over. It couldn’t be over. Three years is a long time for it to be over in ten seconds. He wasn’t even trying to persuade Nick of anything. It was just a fact; his favorite color’s red, he like watching cartoons in the morning, he’s finished with uni in a year.

Nick had smiled softly, in that way that was boarder-line patronizing. Harry hated it. “You’ll be okay, Haz. It’s not like we were really going anywhere anyway, right?”

Harry remembered how that had stung because it had felt like he and Nick were going _everywhere_. They were in love and they were happy and _why_ is the world so goddamn cruel and why can people not just let other people be happy because he was _happy_.

He isn’t happy anymore.

~*~

“You haven’t called her, have you?” Louis asked randomly one Saturday night while they were actually enjoying some semblance of peace for the first time in months. Why why _why_ does Louis have to ask questions that he knows Harry won’t like. Harry remained silent, his gaze never wavering from the television in front of him. “Harry.” Louis tones was sharp and Harry wishes that he had something sharp so that he could cut something out of himself so he could feel something, _anything_. His body feels like it’s been filled with ants and they’re all crawling around just underneath the surface of his skin and they need out; they need to get _out_.

Harry’s gaze breaks away from the TV and he catches Louis’ eye.

“You’re so hollow, Harry.” And it’s not what Harry expected him to say, it’s not what he wanted to hear, it’s not what he _needed_ to hear. But Louis’ said it and _god_ , is it true. He’s never heard a more accurate description of himself and it’s too much to hear; four words and he’s broken, he’s shattering.

And Louis’ there to pick up the pieces; he’s there, always there.

“Harry, love, look at me.” Louis’ too nice to him. He’s too kind and too perfect and it’s all too much.

So Harry leaves.

He leaves because it’s what he’s good at and because that’s what he does.

He leaves.

And Louis doesn’t follow, not this time.

~*~

When Harry hears a knock on his door the next morning, he knows whole-heartedly that it’s Louis and that he’s here to make everything better even though Harry knows that it’s not going to work.

He feels someone jump onto his bed but he doesn’t smell his and Louis’ laundry detergent, he doesn’t smell that cologne that smells amazing but costs more than their rent. He doesn’t feel that warmth that he always feels when Louis’ around, he’s not drawn to it like Louis’ the sun and he’s stuck in its orbit.

He feels hollow and it’s not Louis that’s in his bed.

“C’mon, H.”

It’s Niall because when it’s not Louis, it’s Niall. “Up you get, it’s a beautiful day and after you take about three showers we’re going to the park.”

“I don’t want to, Ni, let me sleep.” He’s so, so tired. He wants to sleep for a thousand years and maybe wake up when people like Nick Grimshaw aren’t in the world. Maybe never wake up.

The thought should scare him, but it doesn’t.

“You’ve slept the day away and it’s half four in the afternoon.” Niall started shaking his shoulders and Harry wonders if he can actually feel his bones moving around inside of him- their smooth edges rubbing against each other, feeling too brittle to support him, but doing their job nonetheless- or if it’s just his imagination, his weariness making his brain foggy.

Harry tried pulling his pillow over his head but then Niall’s ripping it away and straddling his hips and hitting him with it because Niall doesn’t walk on eggshells around anyone; he’s loud and brash and carefree and Harry wishes that he could be a little more like Niall. He wishes that everyone could be a little more like Niall. The world would just be a better place.

“Get up and shower, mate.” His voice is soft but his breathing is still heavy and Niall’s not like this with anyone, Harry thinks. His voice doesn’t go _soft_ , he’s not careful with anyone. He’s not careful with anyone because they can take it; they can handle it. Harry can’t. It’s too much and too soon and Niall doesn’t walk on eggshells around anyone but he can be careful. He can be soft and kind and his words are harsh but he smiles so you know he doesn’t mean it.

Harry wishes that everyone could be a little more like Niall.

~*~

Harry showers, finally. He doesn’t remember the last time he did, but when he catches a look at his reflection in the mirror, he curses himself because who even is he anymore? His eyes are circled with dark rings and his hair is dirty and disgusting and too long and face is sunken in and his lips are pale and chapped and he doesn’t look happy.

He’s not happy.

He doesn’t even remember how to be happy, much less how to _be_.

~*~

Harry hates the park. He honestly, truly, undeniably hates this park.

Nick kissed him here.

Nick said _I love you_ for the first time here and he was okay with it when Harry couldn’t say it back.

He and Nick got high here for the first time and they were happy and giddy even as some woman ran them off because it was suddenly three in the morning and they were singing and they were young and they were _in love here_.

He was happy here.

He’s not happy anymore.

“Harry.” Niall didn’t use Harry’s actual name often, only when he was being Serious. Niall wasn’t Serious often. “Harry, look at me.”

Harry turned his head away from the young couple that he had been absently staring at and frowned. He didn’t like Serious Niall.

“You know I love you right?” Niall asked, his mouth turned up a little at the corners like it’s physically impossible for him to not be smiling. “You need help, H. Why don’t you talk to that lady? The one Louis told you about?” Harry nodded because he felt like he should and he could understand Niall. Niall slowed things down for him when he needed it. He spoke softly and kindly and sometimes it’s exactly what Harry needs. “I’ve gone to her before, you know?” Yeah, Harry did know. He nodded his head as an afterthought. Niall can’t read his mind and sometimes that’s really unfortunate. “When I wasn’t doing so hot first semester, first year. I kind of fell into a bit of a slump you know? Drinking all the time and partying too much; that’s what it was all about to me.” Harry nodded again because yeah, he remembered. He and Niall were randomly assigned roommates first year and he vividly remembers Niall stumbling in at ungodly hours of the morning, puking his way to the bathroom. He remembers the crying that he would hear in the middle of the night, the sobs that were only silenced when Niall was finally able to get some sleep; the pills that Harry would find around the room, hidden in between books and in his shower caddy. He remembers pulling Niall away from numerous fights at clubs, fights that Nick usually had to step in the middle of because Harry was smaller than him and Nick was Older and therefore had Authority.

He remembers sitting Niall down and telling him that there were people who he could talk to. He remembers Louis butting in with the number of a therapist that his mum knows in the area. He remembers Niall crying and telling them that he wanted to get better, he just didn’t know _how_ , is all.

Yeah, he remembers.

“Just give her a call please? Karen’s really nice, honest.”

Harry nods but he doesn’t mean it.

~*~

Harry didn’t want to call Karen. He didn’t want to talk to someone about his feelings because he _has none_. He’s hollow. He’s indifferent. He can vaguely see that that may become a problem in the future but right now there are no immediate downsides to being this hollow, shell of a person.

He’s fine; he just needs time is all.

~*~

Every Monday, Harry doesn’t have any classes after 11:30. He always calls his mum during this time while he’s eating his lunch so they can catch up on their weeks and just check in on each other.

Harry doesn’t call anymore.

It’s been weeks since he’s talked to anyone in his immediate family and now his phone’s ringing and it’s his mum and he can’t just ignore it but he does anyway because he just doesn’t want to talk right now. Not right now, not ever.

Because he can avoid Louis’ questions, and he can nod along to whatever Niall’s saying but he can’t lie to his mum. He can’t tell her that everything’s okay when it’s just simply _not_.

~*~

“I made lunch,” Louis said, as he poked his head through Harry’s cracked door. He doesn’t lock it anymore in fear that one morning his indifference will actually kill him and he’d rather not rot away on his bed. He wouldn’t want Louis to have to deal with his decaying body. He’s only trying to help, honestly.

“’m not hungry,” Harry mumbled only half aware that those are the first words he’s spoken in a week.

“You’ve not eaten, Haz.” Louis states it as though it’s a fact that Harry didn’t already know, as if he couldn’t hear his own stomach grumbling, as if he couldn’t see his ribs poking through his skin.

“’m not hungry,” he repeats because he loves Louis with all his heart but he’s just being annoying now, can’t he see that Harry isn’t ready for social interaction right now? Can’t he see that Harry would rather be alone than be with the one person who always makes everything better?

Things are so fucked up now.

Louis didn’t say anything as he slid through the door. He didn’t say anything as he lifted up the corner of Harry’s duvet and slid underneath it and into the warmth that had collected there. He didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s thin torso, didn’t say anything about how boney he’s gotten. Louis didn’t say anything because with Harry and Louis and Louis and Harry, words didn’t matter; feelings did. And maybe Harry wasn’t feeling anything right now, and maybe he never would, but Louis was feeling enough for the both of them. And that was okay.

~*~

Looking back, Harry should have been suspicious from the moment there was a knock on the door of their flat.

Niall doesn’t knock; he rarely even calls first. Liam and Zayn don’t come over often, and when they do they come together and they actually give some sort of heads up.

But now Harry’s sitting in the chair in their tiny little kitchen, having his head jerked every which way as Louis and Harry’s friend, Lou, cuts his hair.

“You could have at least had him shower first,” Lou mumbles to Louis as she snips some more hair from around his ears.

“I was lucky to get him out of bed.”

“I’m right here,” Harry murmurs indignantly, his voice rough from disuse.

“Oh,” Lou replies, the single syllable thick with sarcasm. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that you’re speaking to me now.”

Louis huffs out a laugh and Harry’s so surprised at the sound that he can’t even remember why he was meant to be offended in the first place.

Lou runs a comb through his hair one last time and then pats his shoulder lightly. “You’re done, sweets.”

Harry stood slowly, ignoring the dizziness that he’s become too accustomed to. “Thanks Lou.”

Lou jerked a thumb in Louis’ direction. “Don’t thank me; thank Louis over here who was begging for me to come do _something_ about that hair of yours.”

Louis’ face flushed and Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that. “It was getting pretty ridiculous, mate.”

“Well,” Lou clapped her hands together and then began to gather her things. “I’m off, gotta pick Lux up from daycare before Tom scares everybody away again.” She laughs in that fond way that she always does when she’s speaking of her husband. “I love ‘im, but the tattoos are getting ridiculous.”

Harry smiled once before trudging back into his room for a nap.

He can shower later.

~*~

Harry’s halfway through his second class of the day when his phone rings. He sits up alarmed and tries to inconspicuously pull it out of his pocket.

“You can take your call outside, Mr. Styles.”

Harry begrudgingly packs away his things and slides his thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer before he’s even through the door.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Styles?” Asks a chipper voice on the other end of the line. There are other sounds in the background, things like a keyboard clicking and sounds of another phone ringing far off. It forces him to remember that people are actually doing things with their lives. There are people who are out and about doing things to better the world, completely and totally unaware of the fact that Harry Styles is currently in England wasting away to nothing.

“Erm, yes?”

“Hi, this is Jessica calling from Pathways Counseling Center. I’m just calling to remind you of your appointment with Karen Schillings tomorrow at four.”

“I-“

“Have a nice day, Mr. Styles.” The line cut off and then there was only the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

~*~

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry. He doesn’t think that he’s ever wanted to hurt Louis like this; he’s never wanted to make him _pay_ for something like this.

Maybe because Louis’ never _done_ anything like this.

“How could you do this?” Those were the first words to fly out of his mouth when he entered their flat. Louis was ready for it, obviously; he knew that Harry would be angry and Harry just doesn’t understand why Louis would go behind his back like this.

“You need help, H. She can help you and she can make things better I swear to you.”

For the first time in four months Harry took a good look at his best friend.

He’s not okay either. Neither of them are okay and Harry _would_ be the one to do the impossible, he would be the one to pull the warmth from the sun, to douse water on the flaming ball of energy that is Louis Tomlinson, his best mate since sixth form. He’s not sure when things got this bad, he can’t pinpoint a specific time when he started to drag Louis down with him into this pathetic pit of sadness and self-pity.

“I just need time, is all.” He thinks that maybe if he keeps repeating those words then maybe, just maybe, they could be true. Maybe he really will be okay in the end, maybe he’ll make it out of this alive and with no casualties. Maybe he can make it.

“You’ve had time, Harry.” Louis said softly, his eyes flickering across Harry’s body in a way that would make Harry feel self-conscious if he could feel anything at all. “It’s been nearly five months.”

Harry knows. He knows that it’s been too long and that any normal person would be over it by now. He doesn’t even think it’s about Nick anymore and he thinks that maybe he’s been over him for a long time now. It’s not about him because Harry doesn’t even miss _him_. No, he misses the warmth of someone sleeping beside him. He misses the sound of someone whispering _I love you_ into his skin. He misses the feel of someone else’s skin beneath his hands.

He can’t even remember what it felt like to love Nick because for as long as he’s known what love truly is, he’s loved _Louis_. He’s loved him whole-heartedly and so completely for so long and it’s never been like this. It’s never been this need; this pull. He’s never felt drawn to Louis the way he is now. Louis has always been his sun; this _thing_ that Harry’s been helpless to fight, this _being_ that Harry has been content with just circling for so long and now he’s ready to jump ship and fall headfirst in the this crashing ocean that _is_ Louis. He wants to fall in love with him even more every day and he wants to know the feeling of Louis’ hips against his. He wants to feel his lips on his mouth, on his neck and on his chest. He wants Louis to love him back in the same way and wants Louis to smile at him the way he used to, before all of this happened, before he even knew who Nick Grimshaw was.

He wants to get better.

“Harry?”

Harry didn’t know when he started crying, he didn’t know when Louis wrapped his arms around him and pulled him over to the couch in their too small sitting room. He doesn’t know when Louis wrapped a blanket around his shoulders or where he even got it from because Louis always keeps all the blankets in his room because he gets cold a lot and he doesn’t think that Louis’ left his side long enough to get one.

Louis’ lips are pressed to his cheek and Harry hates himself because if things had been different, if he hadn’t tried to deny his feelings for Louis in the beginning then maybe he wouldn’t have known Nick and maybe Louis’ lips would be pressed against his _lips_ right now instead of four inches to the left.

“I want to get better, Lou.”

And Louis didn’t say anything because he didn’t have to.

~*~

Pathways Counseling Center is right in the heart of the city. It’s surrounded by tall buildings and bustling streets and the sounds of traffic.

Inside, it’s like a little safe haven in the midst of the jungle. It’s like Simon’s cave in the middle of the deserted island; his place and his place only.

Only, no, because people know about this place. People like him come here and they need help too and that’s comforting even though he doesn’t want it to be.

He signs in, carefully writing out his name and the time of the appointment that he didn’t even make on the almost filled sheet of paper.

He knows that Louis’ outside waiting and that’s comforting as well. This time it’s welcome. He _wants_ Louis to want him too; he _needs_ Louis to need him in the same desperate way that Harry feels now and forever.

But first he has to be okay.

He’ll be okay.

~*~

Karen Schillings is older than Harry expected her to be.

She looks maybe sixty years old and she has her glasses perched on the end of her nose in a way that would make her look shrewd if it weren’t for the soft look in her eyes.

“What’s your name, love?”

She knows his name, Harry knows, but he tells her anyway. “Harry Edward Styles.”

“And how are you today, Harry?” She somehow manages to ask it without sounding condescending.

“I’m not very good, if I’m being honest.” He remembers what Louis told him last night. (“You can’t lie to her, H. Not if you want to get better. She only wants to help.” He looked into Harry’s eyes, too close for comfort, but still not close enough. “Please get better, if not for you than for me, at least.”)

“And what’s wrong, dear?”

“I’m in love with my best friend, for starters.” Harry chuckled dryly and he can physically feel himself getting lighter as the words tumble from his mouth. “My boyfriend of three years dumped me five months ago and I haven’t got a clue why. He told me that we were in different places in our lives and it sounded so robotic and fake, I just can’t bring myself to believe it.” He takes a few deep breaths and tries to think of everything that’s brought him to this point. “I’m not even really that torn up about it, I just don’t understand is all. I’ve been in love with Louis for so long and I think that I really did love Nick at some point, maybe the whole time but it’s always been about Louis for me. Always.” He realized belatedly that he never even specified who Nick was or who Louis was, but he thinks that maybe he doesn’t need to because Dr. Schillings isn’t stopping him.

“Two of my best friends are in love and they’re so happy together and I want to be happy for them but I just can’t and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I can’t be happy and I don’t know how to fix myself but I want to because I just want Louis to want me.” Harry didn’t- he doesn’t know where it came from but now that it’s started he can’t stop. He’s not sure if he wants to. “My mom is so nice and I know she loves me but sometimes I feel like she loves Gemma- that’s my sister- more than me because Gem is just so nice and great and smart and she’s everything that I wish that I could be in a person.”

When he’s finished he looks up from his hands to find Dr. Schillings scribbling across her pad of paper frantically, but she still somehow looks calm and collected.

He waits until she looks up to speak again. “I- I don’t know where that came from.” He laughed a small little self-deprecating laugh and met Dr. Schillings’ eyes.

“Let’s start from the very beginning, shall we?”

~*~

“So how was it?” Louis was leaning against his car, the picture of casualty. As Harry draws closer, however, he can see the little signs where Harry’s been dragging him down.

The puffiness under his eyes, the too-thick scruff on his face, the hair that’s flipping out at the ends; it’s all Harry’s fault.

“She, um, she wanted me to call my mom for starters, I think. Talk to her about some stuff.”

“That’s good.” The toe of Louis’ shoe started dragging circles in the dirt beneath his feet. “She’s worried, you know?”

“Yeah.” Harry’s feet were moving suddenly, an unconscious decision that Harry couldn’t have prevented if he tried. Then he’s wrapping his arms around Louis waist and Louis’ body is filling up the empty spaces in Harry’s own that he thinks can only ever be filled by this boy right here in his arms.

“Haz.” Louis voice was choked like he was crying and Harry thinks that his eyes might be wet too and they must look ridiculous having a proper crying fit in the midst of this jungle of a city that they call home. “I care about you so much. So, so much, Harry.”

Harry just grips him tighter because _he knows_ and he wants to be okay again.

~*~

“H, why didn’t you tell me?” Harry’s mum was crying; she seems to have been for a while now. “I love you so much and you and your sister are both equally important to me, you should know that, love.”

Harry thinks that maybe he did know that, he thinks that maybe he was just fishing for things that could be the source of his depression.

That’s what he is: depressed. Karen told him so and after he cried about it for a few minutes he maybe realized that he’s known that for a while now. He’s been so sad for so long; too long.

“I think I knew that,” Harry admitted reluctantly, his voice shaking because he’s a sympathetic crier. “It’s just. Gemma’s doing so well now and everything for her has been so easy because she’s so smart and kind and-“

“You’re all of those things as well, Harry, you know that?” Harry paused and no, he’s not. “You got to uni on that scholarship and you’ve been doing so well in all of your classes. You’re such a kind-hearted person, H, how can you not see that?”

“I’m not.”

“You give so much to everyone-“

“I-I don’t mean that I’m not- you know, kind, or whatever. I mean. I’m not doing very well in my classes at the ‘mo.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, not unkindly.

“I’m practically failing my writing class and physics is kicking my arse, mum. I’m not smart like Gemma was in school. I’m falling behind and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“H, what did Louis major in?”

Harry thought for a moment and frowned hard. “Physics,” he mumbled begrudgingly. “But I can’t-“

“You _can_ , Harry. When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Just this morning-“

“I mean _really_ talked to him. Not just a _good morning_ or something, I mean when was the last time you talked to him about how you feel? I remember those 3am heart-to-hearts you’d have.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself as he remembered the hushed conversations about anything and everything.

_(“I just don’t understand the concept of god, is all. It seems so ridiculous, innit? Having some all-knowing figure up in the sky? As a man of science I just can’t believe it._

_“But how do you explain the beginning of the universe? Someone had to have started it, right?”_

_“I just don’t think on it too much, Haz. The universe was created and now it’s here and now I’m living and breathing in this world. Why question the past when it makes no difference now?”)_

_(“I think I’m gay, Harry.”_

_“That’s cool,” Harry had replied, not even skipping a beat as he scrolled through Facebook._

_“You don’t care?” Louis had seemed genuinely shocked._

_“Why would I care about who you are? You’re my best mate and that’s all there is to it.” Harry had grinned and shoved Louis over a bit. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”)_

“I don’t know, it’s been a while I guess.”

~*~

Two weeks later Harry found himself sitting in the plush red chair that was sat facing the dark mahogany desk of Dr. Schillings. “I want to talk about Nick today, if that’s alright?”

Harry nodded because what else was he supposed to do? He’s already told this woman more about his life in the past three weeks than he has to anyone else in his twenty years of life.

“Describe to me what Nick looks like.”

Harry tried to conjure up the last memory he had of Nick. It’s been so long since he’s seen him and it’s almost like he never even existed.

But, no. Because Nick is the reason he’s even here.

“He’s- um, he’s really tall and, like, lanky I guess? His hair was always pulled up into this stupid giant quiff thing. He was really small and narrow but too tall at the same time, you know? His cheeks were kinda round and his jaw wasn’t really sharp or defined or anything. He always wore really dark colors and he never smiled at anything. He would only really laugh when he was drunk or making fun of someone.” Harry shrugged. “That’s all I remember.”

Karen nodded and made a few notes. “You know what I find interesting?” It was a rhetorical question so Harry didn’t answer. “Last week I had you to describe Louis, remember?” Harry nodded. “Well it seems like they are complete opposites.”

Karen flipped back a few pages in her notes. “Here you described Louis as a ‘bright ball of energy’ and you said that he ‘captured the attention of everyone’. Nick you describe as this dark figure. One who seems mysterious and withdrawn.”

“I guess they were kind of opposites I guess.” Harry did notice the differences between them, but they were always things like _Nick’s hair is so tall and stupid but Louis’ hair is soft and looks good when it’s down_. How did he never see the problem there?

“But you cared deeply about them both, correct?”

“At first, yeah,” Harry admitted.

“At first?”

“Nick was this- he was an enigma at first. He was so different and older and experienced and I felt drawn to it. I was like a moth to a flame. I really think that I loved him at first.

“But with Nick it took time. I had to make myself see the good parts in him because there were so many bad parts that I couldn’t get over. He got drunk a lot and he made fun of people and he was loud and uncaring. I told myself that he was just like Louis, but he wasn’t was he?

“Louis was a fun and sappy drunk. Nick liked to do crazy things and get himself arrested. Louis would make fun of people to lighten the mood but he would make fun of himself too. It wasn’t a defense mechanism like it was for Nick. Louis was loud but in the _best_ way. He was hilarious and everyone loved him. Nick was embarrassing. Louis didn’t care what people thought of him, but Nick said things to make people hate him. He gave them a _reason_ so he could blame it on that when people got to know him and saw just how bad of a person he was.”

Harry didn’t know when he started talking about Louis in past tense, but he suddenly feels like crying.

“Why is Louis not like that now?” Of course Karen would call him out on it.

“I’m bringing him down, I think.”

“What does that mean, Harry?” She absentmindedly handed him a box of tissues.

“Ever since Nick and I broke up, I’ve been so hollow and- and I’ve been so _sad_.” He pressed his palms against his eyes to stop the tears. “He never goes out anymore and he always stays with me even when I don’t talk to him. He just- he _cares_ about me so much and I can’t even tell him how much I love him without ruining everything.”

“Why do you think that it would ruin everything, Harry?”

“Because he doesn’t _love me_. Not like I love him. He doesn’t _need me_.”

“If he didn’t love you, then why would he have stayed through it all?”

 “He doesn’t love me,” Harry replied stubbornly. Louis _can’t_ love him. He’s tried so hard but he’s too broken now. He’s unfixable.

“I think you should talk to Louis.”

~*~

Two weeks later Harry feels good. He almost feels… happy.

He’s also drunk and he’s warm and he’s pressed against Louis’ side and he’s not felt this way in so, so long.

“Haz, we should get home. It’s so, _so_ late. You have- You have class! Tomorrow! I have to work! Tomorrow!”

Harry maybe knew that it was a bad idea to get smashed on a Sunday. He maybe knew that it was a bad idea because Louis likes to move in closer when he’s drunk. He maybe knew that Louis’ hands liked to wander when he’s drunk and maybe he knew that this would happen. He maybe knew those things, but he’s drunk and he can pretend that he didn’t. That he doesn’t.

“Cab. Let’s get a cab. Right now, let’s go.” Harry stood up on shaking legs, his stomach rolling from the awful combination of too many shots and too many cocktails and too much dancing. “We have to-“ He laughed at Louis’ face; his eyes wide and pupils blown in the darkness of the club. “We have to go outside so that we can- cab.”

Niall, Zayn and Liam were dancing. Harry could see them just on the other side of the club; Niall with some girl who’s probably more drunk than he is, Zayn and Liam grinding on each other because they’re happy and they’re in love and because they fucking _can_. Harry doesn’t resent them much anymore. He loves them too much and after a heart-to-heart over a bottle of tequila he learned that maybe not everything is perfect for them either, but they’re okay.

“H. Haz. Hazza. Harry. Harold.” Louis giggled, his tiny hand coming up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Your- Your name keeps getting longer.”

It’s not even funny but Harry laughs because Louis’ laughing and he loves Louis so much and he can’t help it.

“What were we- Cab! We should go outside for a cab.” Louis grabs his hand and drags him outside, the November air cool against their still sweaty bodies. “Cabs are so great.”

Harry nodded in agreement as Louis stood on his tiptoes to wave one of the cars down.

“-pick you up and then they take you somewhere else!” Louis was saying, grabbing Harry’s hand to pull him into the car he’d flagged down. “You sir,” Louis leaned up to speak to the driver. “Are a life saver, did you know that?”

The driver grinned and caught Harry’s eye in the mirror. “Where to?”

“The stars,” Harry said automatically, The _Titanic_ reference rolling off his tongue. The driver rolled his eyes and coughed so Harry spat out their address and looked at Louis who was now sitting silently, hands in his lap.

“Are we in a romantic movie now, H?” He was the picture of perfection in that moment; hair slightly disheveled, lips pink and parted slightly. His face was flushed and his eyes were twinkling in the dim lights of the city that were streaming in through the window. He didn’t think that anyone would want to be perfect, but Louis was. He was complete and absolute perfection.

“We could be,” Harry replied, meaning for it to be cheeky. Instead it came out sincere and heartbreaking because Louis isn’t supposed to know things like that. He isn’t supposed to know how completely and totally in love Harry is with him. Harry’s face flushed even darker in the moonlight, his hands felt twitchy in his lap because what is Louis going to do? Harry can’t take it back, not now.

He thinks that maybe it was supposed to come out that way. Maybe his drunken profession would be their ending, maybe Louis will push him away and have his bags packed by morning.

But no, it’s not- it’s not the end- because Louis is moving closer and Harry wants to _cry_ because he’s drunk and emotional and he wants to remember this so badly but he knows it’s a mistake. It’s going to be a mistake but he can’t stop, not now. He’s in too deep; he’s jumped head first into the ocean that is _Louis Tomlinson_ and he doesn’t have a lifejacket, he doesn’t have a raft and he’s sinking fast.

But then Louis’ the light at the end of the tunnel, he’s the air in his lungs pulling him back to the surface; he’s the sun coming up in the morning. Because now Louis’ lips are on his and he’s finally coming home.

He’s home.

~*~

The door’s banging against the wall and Harry knows in the back of his mind that there will be a hole there in the morning. He’s secretly glad about that because if he doesn’t remember this when he wakes up, he’ll see the hole and he’ll know; that hole will be proof.

Louis panting into his mouth and mumbling _off, off, off_ as he pulls at the hem of Harry’s shirt, grinning against the side of Harry’s neck. Harry obliges easily, ripping off the offending piece of clothing, sighing when Louis fingertips immediately sink into the skin of his chest. Harry’s happy that he’s been eating more recently, so his ribs are no longer so pronounced and his arms actually have some muscle to them. Louis seems to be happy with the changes too as he’s sucking bruises into the skin around Harry’s nipples, pausing occasionally to flick at the nubs with a loud cackle.

“Lou, please,” Harry begs, his chest heaving as Louis continues to tease him, completely ignoring the fact that Harry’s been clawing at his shirt for _ages_.

Eventually Louis pulls off of Harry’s chest and bites once more over the spot he’d been working on for some time. “Perfect.” He looks up and meets Harry’s eyes, his grin faltering for half a second before he’s finally, _finally_ pulling off his shirt and Harry’s able to drink in the sight before him. Louis’ lost weight as well, Harry notices with a frown. Louis doesn’t seem to mind though because he’s wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and then he’s mumbling _up_ and now Harry’s got two handfuls of Louis Tomlinson’s arse and he just doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Louis, on the other hand, seems to be okay because his back is arching up and this new angle is _perfect_ because Harry has to tilt his head back to recapture Louis’ lips and then Louis’ tongue is in his mouth and all he can feel and hear and see is Louis Louis Louis.

Harry’s cock is hard and straining against his too tight pants and he can tell the exact moment that Louis feels it because his face is splitting into a grin and he somehow finds a way to push their hips together and the friction is so, so good, but it’s still not _enough_. “Bedroom?” Harry’s asking, even though he’s already making his way down the hallway of their too small flat.

Louis’ laughing into his mouth and Harry doesn’t think that he’s ever been happier.

Harry kicks open the door of Louis’ room because it’s closer than his and he vaguely registers that he might have broken the lock, but he doesn’t care much because Louis’ moaning into his mouth and clutching at his hair and it’s so, so perfect. Louis is scrambling to get down and the second that his feet hit the floor, he’s pulling Harry into his bed and Harry thinks that drowning isn’t actually so bad.

Louis’ on top of him and his short thick fingers are fumbling with Harry’s belt and then remembers that Louis’ pants should have been off five minutes ago but Harry’s drunk and uncoordinated and he can’t get the button undone and goddamnit _why_ can’t he undo the fucking button.

He sits back and breaths for a moment and he’s fine until Louis’ hand is reaching into his pants and then he’s grasping Harry’s cock with shy little smile on his face. “Is this okay?” He asks and he would look so innocent if it wasn’t for the fact that his thumb is sliding over the head of Harry’s cock and his pupils are blown from the deadly combination of alcohol and lust.

Harry nods because now his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and he needs about eight glasses of water and he thinks that there might be a joke in there about Louis being a tall drink of water but his mind is fuzzy and he’s so, so in love.

Harry pulls himself together long enough to finally, finally undo the button on Louis’ jeans and then he’s sliding them down Louis’ muscular thighs and _god_ , he’s wanted this for so long.

His cock is sliding out of Louis’ grasp so Louis’ fingers make a home in Harry’s hair because Harry needed those hips beneath his lips _right now_. Harry’s kissing his way across the fleshy parts of his sides that he knows Louis hates, but Harry secretly loves and his mouth is too close to Louis’ cock to not pay it any attention so then he’s sucking on the head and Louis’ stomach is tightening beneath his hands and he wants to do so much at once and nothing is enough. Louis is making these sweet little noises and Harry’s cock as never been harder in his whole life he doesn’t think and he’s so, so happy.

He feels Louis moving around above his head but he can’t look up because if he sees Louis’ face right now he might just come in his pants right then and there. So, no, he’s focusing on taking Louis as far down as he can and he’s nuzzling his nose into the soft hairs just below his stomach and his eyes are watering but he’s loving every second of it.

But then it’s over because Louis’ pulling his head up and off of his cock and Harry’s confused because he hasn’t even come yet, but then he’s not confused anymore because Louis’ pushing lube and a condom into his hand with that tiny little smile on his lips and _oh_.

Harry’s topped before- not very often, but enough to know what he’s doing. He’s not even sure when they decided that it was going to be Louis on the bottom but Louis looks happy to do it and so Harry’s happy too.

“I can’t-“ Louis’ talking for the first time in what seems like hours and his voice is rough and deeper than normal and _Harry did that_. “I won’t last. Need you in me now, _please_.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever moved faster. He’s sitting up and pulling Louis’ pants and jeans down the rest of the way and then Louis’ letting out a little whine because Harry has to get off the bed for a second to wrestle his own jeans off. Then Harry’s spreading Louis’ legs and he’s so, so happy and he’s so, so in love with this boy who’s spread out beneath him.

He almost forgot that’s he’s drunk until he’s fumbling with the lid of the lube and his fingers feel too big, too thick and then the whole lid has come off and he’s scooping it off the bed and rubbing it around with his fingers.

“Did you just-“ Louis wiggles him bum around so it’s dipping into the mess of lube and he lets out a laugh that sounds equal parts shocked and amused. “You spilled the lube didn’t you?”

Harry mumbles a quick little _shut up_ until Louis’ laughing even harder and Harry shuts him up in the absolute _best_ way because his fingers are circling Louis’ hole but then he’s _still_ laughing a little so Harry’s pushing in one long finger in a quick, smooth motion and Louis isn’t laughing anymore.

Louis’ pushing back against his finger, not-so-silently asking for _more more more_ and Harry’s pumping one finger in and out because he wants this to be thorough and he wants this to be as close to perfect as two drunken friends having sex for the first time can be. He thinks for what must be the tenth time that night that this is a terrible, terrible idea, but he’s pushing in another finger and Louis is being so responsive and _loud_. He’s so, so loud and it’s perfect because those little noises just confirm that Louis is _okay_ with this; that he knows that it’s happening and maybe things won’t be okay in the morning but right now they are _perfect_.

“’M ready, ‘m ready,” Louis mumbles and Harry knows that he’s not so he pushes in a third finger and he’s trying to spread them out as wide as they can go but it still makes him nervous because Louis’ so small and so, so tight. “H, _please_.”

“Okay, okay.” Harry pulls out his fingers and absentmindedly rubs them on Louis’ duvet and he prays that Louis won’t mind too much in the morning.

Louis sits up and no, no, _please don’t let this be over, please don’t be upset with me_. But then Louis’ reaching for the condom and he’s tearing off the wrapper and sliding it onto Harry’s length, all while smiling that same little soft smile that’s not left his face since they reached the bedroom. “I wanted to help,” Louis explains before he flops back onto his back and spreads his arms wide. “Now ravish me, Hazza. Do your worst.”

Harry doesn’t think that it would be that hard for him to do his worst because he _is_ kind of drunk and his fingers _do_ feel like sausages and he wants so badly for this to be good.

“Are you ready?” Harry asks once more, just in case, as he rubs his hand around in the pool of lube just beneath Louis’ bum to slick himself up.

Louis nods and pulls Harry down by the shoulders so his body is blanketing Louis’. Louis’ feet dig into his bum cheeks and Harry gets the idea because, oh yeah- he needed to be in Louis six years ago.

His cock is aching but he’s finally pushing in and Louis’ mouth is on his and he’s terrified that if he moves another inch he’s going to come right then and there. He waits a moment to give both Louis and himself some time to adjust.

“Move,” Louis practically shouts into the still air, the room completely silent except for their labored breathing. “Please, please _move_.”

Harry’s pulling out a bit and then slamming back in because Louis _did_ tell him to do his worst and maybe Harry has always kind of liked it a bit rough. Louis doesn’t seem to mind either because he’s crying out in the _best_ way and his nails are scratching down Harry’s back and Harry thinks that he’ll have marks tomorrow but he wouldn’t want anything else.

Louis’ letting out a string of profanities and then a loud cry of _yes yes, right there, right there!_ and that’s when Harry knows that he’s found Louis’ prostate and then he’s doubling his efforts to hit that spot with each and every thrust. Louis eyes are scrunched closed and Harry’s got sweat pooling at the small of his back and he’s never felt happier.

“I’m so, so close, H,” Louis mumbles as he pulls Harry down again to reconnect their lips. There’s the clashing of teeth and Harry thinks that it might have hurt if he wasn’t so, so happy.

Harry reaches down and starts pulling Louis off because Harry’s gentleman even when he’s drunk and he _knows_ that Louis should come first.

And Louis does, after one, two, three, four pulls; he’s coming in long white streaks across his stomach and Harry’s pushed over the edge when Louis’ eyes fly open and he’s leaning up to mumble incoherent words against Harry’s neck.

He hears _so good_ and _amazing_ and _beautiful_ and it sounds ten times better coming from Louis’ mouth than it ever did coming from Nick.

Harry pulls out carefully and ties off the condom with shaky hands and then Louis’ mumbling _stay_ against Harry’s mouth and Harry doesn’t think he could have done anything different.

~*~

Harry wakes to the feeling of a warm body beside him and promptly bursts into tears.

Louis’ still asleep because he can sleep through just about everything and Harry’s slipping through the door and stumbling into the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

The only word flashing through his mind is _mistake mistake mistake_ and occasionally _he was drunk, he doesn’t love you_ and Harry throws up again because it’s so, so true.

He brushes his teeth because maybe he can pretend that it’s just another day and that he didn’t sleep with Louis last night. Maybe he can pretend for a few hours that everything will be okay and that Louis won’t be upset about the fact that Harry completely took advantage of him last night.

There are fresh tears spilling out of his eyes now, because _oh my god, I took advantage of him_. He hopes that Louis won’t see it that way, maybe for him it’ll just be a mistake; a simple one night stand and they can go their separate ways after this.

God, Harry doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Louis to think that way but he knows that it’s inevitable because Harry’s not _good enough_.

So he douses some cold water over his face, puts his tooth brush back in its holder and then he’s walking into the kitchen to go make breakfast.

~*~

He’s eating eggs in his room when he hears his door open.

He wants to be surprised and he wants to close his eyes and click his heels three times and be back home. He wants to rewind to twelve hours ago and stop all of this from happening because, no, it can’t be over; not yet.

But then his eyes are open and Louis’ standing there with his duvet wrapped around his shoulders and he looks like he may be crying but he also looks so, so sad.

“Please don’t let it be a mistake, Harry.” His shoulders are hunched in and he looks exhausted even though he slept at least an hour longer than Harry did. “Please don’t let this be a one night stand; please don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

Harry’s hand is paused halfway to his mouth and it would almost look comical if it was any other situation. “You don’t hate me?” He has to ask, because _god_ he can’t go into this uncertain, he can’t say the things that he needs to without knowing for sure.

“I could never, ever hate you.” And then Louis’ walking the three feet to Harry’s bed and Harry’s moving his plate of eggs far far away because he _loves_ this boy.

“You don’t think I took advantage of you?” Harry knows that he’s asking all the wrong questions but he can’t think of anything else to say because he can’t be the first to say _I love you_ ; he can’t say it without making sure that Louis is one hundred percent certain that this is what he wants. He can’t do this halfway.

“I could never think that,” Louis replies his voice still rough from sleep and raspy from last night and Harry thinks _I did that_. “You mean so much to me.” Louis’ close now and his mouth is right there but Harry can’t be the one to initiate this, not without Louis’ permission. Not without confirming that _this_ is a thing- that Louis’ in this as completely as Harry is. “I’ve wanted you for so long, H. I’ve needed you with every _fiber of my being_ and I know,” he chuckles in that self-deprecating way that he does too often, “I know that that sounds dumb and dramatic and-“

“Not dumb,” Harry mumbles, his mind catching up to his mouth. “Not dramatic.”

Louis grins and pushes his lips against Harry’s for one, two, three seconds. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too,” Harry whispers because he’s happy and because he’s in love and because he _can_.

- _fin_ -

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Comments are always appreciated and loveddddddd!!
> 
> Special thanks to Maggie for telling me that my description was good and for being a super cool beta and for telling me that the smut wasn't the "worst I've read".
> 
> Also thanks to Taylor for being my best friend and soul mate. You're amazing and I love you and I'm sorry for not letting you read it before I post it but I swear I'll listen to any advice you give me. <3
> 
> -N
> 
> (Creep at me on tumblr if you'd like: [arrowinheart](http://arrowinheart.tumblr.com/))


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